Eyes as green as a speckled toad
by Danny
Summary: During his 6th year, Harry defeated the renown youknowwho. Now it's summertime, and Harry's 17. People change over the summerthey get new friends and have new experiences. Harry is no exception.
1. A pretty figure

Harry stared out of his bedroom window at number 4 Privet Drive.

Like his other birthdays during previous years, he was eagerly awaiting the time when the big hand on the clock struck 12. This year, however, came with new promises.

17, Harry thought, the number of freedom. Harry could use magic when he turned 17. His last year at Hogwartz, after the defeat of Voldemort when he actually needed it, he could use magic.

He still had a list of things that he was eagerly awaited to do.

Such as to curse the Dursley's into next week, just for snoring so loudly that it was hard to think.

Stupid prats. Oh, well, I'll be rid of them soon. The clock was getting closer and closer to the 12. Come on, just a few more seconds. 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5. what are those things in the distance?. 4, 3, 2Owls! Happy birthday, me! Maybe it's a good thing that I have to wait a few days before taking my apparation test. I'll probably need the entire time just to open my gifts, it seems.

Harry opened the first letter.

Dear Harry,

Happy birthday! I'm sure you won't misuse this chance to curse your family, of course you wouldn't, you're very well behaved. It's still illegal to do magic where muggles can see it, remember, and I don't want to have to come rescue you from the M&M's (Ministry of Magic) clutches, Harry. That means don't go dropping your uncle out the window, but when you give Dudley the pig's tail, add a little more curl to it. It looks much better. (Thanks for the tip, Remus). Here's- well, open and find out. I'm not going to tell you.

Remus Lupin

It was all Harry could do to contain his excitement. What could the small package be that Lupin's letter was attached to?

He tore of the ribbon and opened the box. A tiny, miniature owl fluttered out. It looked kind of like a miniature Hedwig.

I gotta get Remus to tell me what charm he used on this- it's really cool. Maybe he should create his own toy shop, since he's so good at this. I'll have to mention it to him sometime.

"Well, Hedwig," Harry asked his owl of seven years, "what do you think?"

At the question, Hedwig ruffled her feathers proudly.

"I should enter you in an owl beauty pageant. You would win for sure." Hedwig nibbled his finger affectionately. All women love compliments- even owls.

Okay, next letter.

He opened a box. Colin Creevey had sent him some pictures of him and Ginny Weasley over the past couple of years.

Ginny had gone from a little Weasley, who was everyone's little sister, to the talk of all the guys. Of course, he and Ginny were just friends. Nothing had ever happened between them- she had gotten over Harry years ago. They had become much closer after Lord (Ha! Not anymore) Voldemort's defeat during 6th year. There were still death eaters loose, though. Everyone had to be very careful.

He smiled when he thought of Colin taking the pictures. Since Ron and Hermione had begun dating, Ginny had become his confidante- at least when Ron wasn't there, which was pretty often since he and Hermione usually arrived back in the common room with dust from the broom closet on their clothes. What ever would they be doing? He had no idea.

He could tell Ginny anything, and did. Colin recognized that, and knew that Harry would like a documentation of their progressing friendship.

Here was a picture of Harry and Ginny when he took her out on his precious firebolt for the first time in her life. He could see the thrilled look on Ginny's face as the wind blew her in her face and she couldn't share less. She looked so pretty in there, so carefree. She did not look like a key conspirator in the plot to kill Voldemort. This was the first time the two truly really bonded.

Note to self: Find awesome present for Colin's birthday, whenever that is.

Moving on to Fred and George's gift, he decided to set it aside till a later point, when he wouldn't wake the entire neighborhood. Harry did listen to Remus's lectures, sometimes. After the downfall of Voldemort, Weasley Wizard Wheezes had become a hit. Everyone needed cheering, so George and Fred did what they did best. But that didn't mean that some of their products weren't a bit dangerous in a neighborhood of muggles.

"Girl, I might as well open the rest later," Harry murmured drowsily to his owl. "This is enough excitement for me for one night. I'm going to bed. 'Night, Hedwig."


	2. Ron and Hermione hehheh

Harry woke up to the sun shining brightly in his eyes. He moaned and pulled the covers over his head. Such a nice way to start my birthday.

That's when it hit him.

"Oy! Hedwig! Presents! It's like Christmas all over again," he yelled with glee. Hedwig hooted happily. Hey, that rhymes. Kinda.

"Keep it down, keep it down. Some people are still trying to sleep," his uncle cried, "Shut your bloody owl's trap!" Apparently, this birthday wasn't going to be any different than his other ones if it was up to Vernon. But it was different to him, if not his stupid bloody relatives.

Then it finally really hit him. "I'm 17! I'm 17! Whoo-hoo! I'm 17!" he shouted, doing the kind of dance around his room that someone would expect of a monkey. "And there's absolutely nothing you can do about it, you mean, old prick," he laughed down the hallway.

He turned around and looked at the floor. It was littered with wrapped boxes, little bags with fluffy paper, and of course birthday cards. Who's all this from? Why would so many people send me stuff? Do I know this many people?

Like he did every morning, even on his birthday, the first thing he did was to open the Quibbler- a reflex after fifth year, and a very entertaining, if not entirely true sometimes, wizarding magazine. He turned to the "Happy Birthday" article- the cover story. It read:

Dear Viewers,

Today is the 17th birthday of one of the most renown wizards alive.

No, I am not talking about Albus Dumbledore- he does not permit his

birthday to be published- but our dear Mr. Harry Potter, hero of the

wizard community. He lives in Little Whigging, with his aunt, uncle,

and cousin, who happen to oppose anything to do with the name of

wizard. Poor Harry is stuck there all alone until he takes his

apparation test a week after his birthday- orders of Dumbledore, must

stay with a family member for safety, yadda yadda and the usual stuff.

But Harry at least has some condolence- he can use his magic against

them. Not that he would, because he's a very nice wizard and would

never try and do permanent damage to anyone besides you-know-who.

So, people, the friends of Harry Potter have decided to ask you to

send him little gifts- make his day without the wizarding world just a

little bit brighter.

Friends of Harry Potter

Harry felt his face changing color from purple to white to red. Probably some sort of flag in some country somewhere. If a mediwizard had been there he/she would probably have said he needed to go to the hospital, to the poisonous bites section. Dragon bites were dangerous.

But no, Harry was not suffering from a poisonous bite, but from anger, fear, and embarrassment.

His complexion turned a shady grape, angry that his friends had infiltrated his desire to tone down his publicity. Like Dumbledore, he had his own inclinations of the press. He liked his privacy and they tended to respect his desires. Noticing that they had said to send gifts, he turned white. What if he was sent something he would usually find in Fred and George's joke shop under the "for use on enemies" section?

Then his face turned the Weasley style red, seemingly in-style this season. He was definitely embarrassed. Glancing over at the pile of presents, he noticed it was higher than it was a minute ago. And even higher. And much higher. That was why his face was strawberry colored. No one ever cared about him outside of the Weasley family and Hermione.

After being shunned in the wild world of magic for awhile, Harry had become mild acquaintances with people again. But he could have sworn that no one cared about him enough to something like this for him. And he wasn't think about the gifts scattered around the room. No, that article in the Quibbler- why would anyone do that kinda thing for me?

"Friends of Harry Potter" indeed. Strange. Harry, shaking his head in disbelief, decided to go back to the ripping and reading of the packages he had gotten from his friends- the ones sitting on his bed. Some of these he had received this very morning.

Dear Harry (the letter said),

Knowing you, you've already read the article in the Quibbler. (Harry

smiled. Must be Ron who did it then). I know what you're thinking, and

it wasn't me. No, I can't read your mind, but you're my best bud- I

know what you're thinking. I agree with them, though. Hope you've had

a nice summer. Hermione's been bugging the hell out of me to finish my

homework- I haven't started- but now and then I can get her to shut

up. Don't ask. Ginny's been a bit like Mum in a fit; cleaning up the

whole house to prepare for your visit. No new attacks, fortunately,

since the attack on Diagon Alley a month ago. Percival the Prat has

been strutting around the house like he owns the place since- get this-

he proposed to Penelope. Or "Penny" if you want. She said yes, of

course. Their wedding's at Christmas time. Well, hope you're having

one hell of a birthday. Because if you're not, I'm going to, as the

Americans say, "open a can of whoop-" on you.

Your friend,

Ron

Grinning like a maniac, Harry placed the card with his other gifts. Now, where was he...

Dear Harry,

Happy Birthday to you on this wondrous day. Yes, I've read the

Quibbler; no, I'm not psychic and no it wasn't me. (Geez, are my

habits that obvious?) Yes, you're that obvious. I have officially known

you for seven years now which means I can legally say you are a

bit of a dunce sometimes, and I know Ginny agrees with me. Since

you're farther away from the owl post, it takes longer to get to you.

I got the Quibbler first. Ron's a bit mad at me because I've been bugging

him to do his schoolwork. But he obviously doesn't see that this is

the easiest way for me to get him to... oh, never mind. You're a guy.

Why am I telling you this? Please, though, Harry, try and get some

work done before you get here. You and Ron will be the death of me, I

swear. Percy's going around like a man on a mission- to make this

wedding the best ever. I guess writing articles about cauldron bottoms

and kissing the minister's robes (A little harsh there, 'Mione) pay off,

because he has a lot of money to blow on this. Ginny's really

happy that you're coming. I guess she has a reason... Ron and I haven't

exactly been paying her much attention, because, um... yea... Anyway,

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

Friends 4eva,

Hermione


	3. A letter from a dear friend

Harry decided that he would open his fan mail later- because that's all it was. People who loved Harry the name, the boy-who-lived-yet-again, not the person.

Hedwig was a good owl trafficker. She knew the owls that his friends used and put those on the bed, the rest next to the trashcan. She was too good to him. Not that she was a person or anything. She just had person-like attributes. Maybe it could be described as personification.

He dropped onto his bed with a plop and opened his usual sweets from Mrs. Weasley, the dear.

Next was a package. It had holes on the top. Must be some sort of animal, Harry thought.

On top of the gift was a card.

Dear Harry (the card read),

Happy birthday! Aren't you glad this day is finally here? The day that you can curse your relatives to bloody hell without any repercussions? I am! Because you're going to be here soon and then I don't have to stay out of every room except my own. If I go in most rooms, there's Hermione and Ron- snogging, as usual. No matter where I go! It's cruel and unusual. If I go into the kitchen or anyplace else, there's my mum, wanting me to learn how to cook or degnome the garden. Or, just for kicks, George and Fred apparate into my room and tease me about how depressed I seem to be because you're not here. Not that I am depressed or anything. It's just degrading that I can't do a thing around here.

Anyway, you might be wondering about your birthday present. It's an African Green Snake- Bill found it in his suitcase when he returned from Egypt. Actually, more like I was doing laundry and cleaning- because I'm worked like a slave here- and I found it. I knew that if Bill found it he would just send it back, but when I saw it, I thought of you.

You may be wondering why, am I right? See, the thing is that lately I've been having these strange dreams about the chamber. In it, you are talking to the snakes, and they are talking back. But it's friendly talk. And I stand and wait for you while you do.

Anyway, the point is that I thought you might need someone to talk to- you know, if I'm not around or something like that.

Take good care of her-I'm sure she'll tell you herself if she gets hungry or something like that.

Adios, mi mayor amigo (Bye, my best friend),

Ginny

P.S.- Charlie's teaching me Spanish. Am I doing well do you think?

Definitely good, Harry thought. At least she's learning a language. That will be great for travel. I'm glad she wrote me. I miss her.

_Hey, you, that big hairy thing, I'm hungry! Feed me now!_

A/N: You can find the snake at http: 


	4. It speaks?

A single rose petal dances in the wind, throwing itself into the breeze. It lands on the surprised head of a child, one with a head full of red. She reaches up to grab the petal and laughs, showing her brilliant white teeth. Her face is blurred and it is hard to make out the details.

_What are you dreaming of?_ Harry's head snapped up as he heard a voice with his mind and not his ears.

Oh no! Voldemort's back and he is in my house and has possessed me! Harry started breathing heavily and reached for his back pocket, where he kept his wand in his blue jeans- despite Moody's frequent warnings. Never could know when he might be attacked.

_Now calm down there and tell me what is disturbing you so_, a curious voice said in his head again. It couldn't be Voldie, though, because the voice was female. But maybe he's trying to trick you into becoming relaxed.

"Keep your guard up," he whispered softly to himself. He was proud of himself for managing to create one genuine coherent thought in his life.

_Oh, now you're just being ridiculous. Do you seriously think I'm possessing you? Put your right hand in front of you._ Harry obeyed, having nothing better to do. _See what you just did? _You _put your right hand in front of you. _Not _me_.

That kind of makes sense. He visibly relaxed. His shoulders- well muscled ones from his quidditch practice- fell down to their normal height. Or maybe that would be slightly normal, because his shoulders always seemed to be tensed these days. He sat down on his tattered bed sheet that could have possibly been a table cloth in its past life.

He felt a kind of mental probing._ Good, you've relaxed. This is why I hate have to work with guys. They are so easily agitated_. Harry didn't understand a word. Well, maybe a word here or there, but he just caught the undertone of annoyance. _If you are good, maybe I'll let you know where I am. All right?_

Harry nodded, looking around the room expecting death eaters around every corner. The closet was closed, and it was a good thing, too, because nothing could fit into there after the Dursleys were through with it. The desk might have been nice at one point in time. That might have been before it was purchased. For, while it sat in the "garage" as Dudley had dubbed Harry's room, it was destroyed. Or, perhaps missing two legs would have been a more accurate description. His room was pretty bland, besides having a little night stand and his bed, and there was no sign of a person anywhere.

"All right, I give up. Where are you?" Harry asked.

_Look off the side of the bed_.

The side of the bed. Next to the underside of the bed, which was dark. And scary. Monsters lived there. Sometimes old smelly socks lived there too, which were just as bad as the Boogeyman.

He cautiously glanced over the side of the bed, his legs in the air on one side, eyes poking over the other. There, lying curled up and looking comfortable on the clothes he had thrown off of the bed the night before, was the snake Ginny had sent him.

"God, I'm so stupid. I can't believe I left the snake out like that. Sorry," he said to the air, "I'm a guy, what can I say? I completely forgot about her gift! Dumb, stupid, prat.." and continued to curse himself blue while yet again forgetting about the thing that brought him to hitting himself in the first place.

_Eh-hem_. Harry jumped, think Umbridge had somehow broken into the house.

"Umbridge? Hello? Wow, freaky."

_Are you done? I'm getting hungry._

Harry scratched his head, confused.

There was a sigh. _The snake- you know, the one that's sitting on the ground?_ He jumped, startled at the voice speaking to his head rather than his ears, and nodded subconsciously._ That's me._

Harry poked his head again, contemplating if he had eaten something he should not have. Like drugs. Because he could have sworn that the snake said that it was the one talking to him.

_Yep, that's me. Now GET ME SOME FOOD!_

Harry, startled out of his daydream, quickly waved his wand. After living with Hermione and Ginny for seven years, he had learned a general rule of thumb: always obey the women. Always. And never question them. Especially when you don't know who they are.

Actually, that was how he became such good friends with Ginny. He didn't know who she was. Well, he knew who she was, but not _who_ she was. One day he asked Ginny to pass the syrup, and the next moment she was yelling at him for being an idiot. Which he was. With Hermione's urging, he followed her out of the Great Hall and found out what had really been bothering her.

It seemed that as soon as she had gotten over Harry, he had finally said more than "hello", and quite frankly, it had pissed her off. Harry, being the suave gentleman he was, offered to spend some time to get to know each other, because he admitted that he really didn't know her that well besides that she had an amazing bat bogey hex.

That was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

_Hello? Stop daydreaming, I'm waiting for my food_.

He realized that he didn't know who the voice belonged to. He knew what. When he heard her voice in his head, it was slithered. It seemed familiar, but how would he be familiar with the velvety voice of a snake?

His charge hissed venomous, yelling threats into his head of what she would do to him if he did not give her her well-earned meal.

Harry grinned deviously, and took the first of Dudley's computers and with a flick of his wrist changed the screen into a white fuzzy mouse. One down, five kajillion to go.


	5. Whatever Shall I Do With This Stick?

As the day passed, lunch came and went as did the white mice. Harry's stomach growled, a sure sign of his constant hunger pains.

He looked at the small blessing curled up on his pillow. Thanks, Ginny, for sending me someone who I can talk to when I need someone the most. He walked down the stairs for a quick meal with his porkbellied uncle and cousin and pole-like aunt.

Afterwards, when he trudged up the stairs, he leaned his head against the wall outside of his room, pondering what the hell he was doing there, being miserable as a free wizard.

He sighed and walked into his bedroom to find two glaring eyes.

A tongue whipped out of her mouth.

I'm so glad you enjoyed your dinner. I am sure it was incredibly scrumptious and filling. Was it the best meal you have ever had? It better have been, because I have been sitting here waiting for you to transfigure me a meal and you know what? That does NOT make me a happy snake.

Harry looked at the eyes and blinked. Then he stared some more.

Harry? Are you all right? Sorry for snapping, but I'm hungry.

He reached for his wand as he mumbled something about "women" and "PMS-ing".

The post-transfiguration mice sat there for a moment as the snake chased them around the room, taking an abnormally long time to catch a few mice, but in the end had a satisfying meal. She gobbled them up.

Harry didn't notice any fangs, fortunate for him. The mice went in her stomach—or intestinal area, Harry supposed—and he watched as oval-like shapes went back and back and back… and were gone.

"That has got to be the coolest thing I've ever seen," Harry said, jumping onto his bed like a child.

That would be why girls don't like it when guys watch them eat. Or do anything else for that matter. It freaks them out.

Harry took a looong moment to comprehend this. "But you're a snake!"

You think that matters? Male snakes are just as bad as human teenagers. They have no manners and regards for the others concerns.

Harry breathed in sharply. "Wow, they must be pretty bad."

Not as bad as a person I know who can't admit their feelings.

Titling his head at the confusion of the statement, he almost missed his new friend's departure from his room.

"Wait! I'm confused," he shouted down the hallway, forgetting that the Durseley's were in the house and that he had just yelled in an uncomprehendable slithering dialect and voice.

He forgot for a moment—or at least, forgot until his great fathead of an uncle came troddling up the stairs, followed closely by his aunt and his cousin. Absolutely delightful.

"I hate relatives," he said in snake language.

"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing on my side of the house?" Harry asked his pig-faced family. After other wizards had started to step in on Harry's behalf, they had decided to apportion Harry with a small section of the house so they would never have to suffer his presence outside of meals.

Dudley looked at him bug-eyed. "What the bloody hell do you think you are doing? We're going to search the house. It seems that there may be a gas pipe leaking. We have been hearing this hissing noise for a while, and it just grew louder," he said in his nasily, nasty voice.

Harry looked around discreetly, searching for his newfound friend. He saw her underneath the dresser on the first floor behind the Dursleys, who were standing on the stairs where he had intercepted them from entering his delegated rooms. She stuck out her red tongue at him—which gave him an idea.

"Actually, I might possibly know where it is—"

"Then tell us!" Uncle Vernon shouted, his face turning red at the effort of being slightly polite to his nephew.

"—As I was saying before I was so _rudely_ interrupted," he nodded pointedly at Vernon. "I might possibly know where it is. But I don't think I need—or want for that matter—to tell you," he ended with a mocking tone.

Vernon and Dudley had identical dumb-shocked looks on their faces—jaws dropped, tonsils showing, eyes wide. The one difference was Dudley threatened to topple over. His bodily fat wasn't as evenly distributed as his fathers. Petunia had thin chin and cheek bones which forced her face out, like a horse. Harry took this all in in a matter of seconds.

The three faces watching Harry warily were like someone who had just drunken a gallon of wheat grass—or worse, flower juice—because no one talked to the Dursleys like that. Not their relatives, not Dudley's teacher, not Petunia's neighbors, not Vernon's boss. No one. Not even Harry. He just ignored them most of the time. But not today. They were rendered speechless.

"Yes, I am talking back to you. Yes, it is the end of the world. Or, more like the end of _your_ world. I'm 17, and that means big trouble for you. In the real world," the dumbstruck heaps changed to winces and bracing for his harsh words, "I can do the M-word. MAGIC." Harry flung his arms out in a flourishing motion, causing Dudley to have a sharp intake of breath, and fall down the step onto his cushioned bottom, collecting a snicker from Harry.

That was the last straw for Uncle Vernon. He was taking off the boots and the house was smelling. He leaned inward with his nasty, pig-face look.

"Now you look here, you piece of vermin. I will not tolerate your abnormality under this roof!" he yelled, with a sneer on his face.

Aunt Petunia and Dudley tried to hold him back. They knew what an angry wizard could do, what with Petunia growing up with one and Dudley, well… not changing all too much, but growing a pig tail at least.

That was the last straw for Harry, too.

"You know what? I can't tolerate your abnormality either."

With a wink at his support group of one sitting on the dresser observing all that was going on, he transfigured his relatives into their true forms.

Petunia, a horse of course. Uncle Vernon a cow. His legs were a bit too long to be a pig. Dudley was the easiest. He always hogged everything. Harry didn't even have to do much work reformatting him. Just a flick of the wrist. Professor McGonagall would be proud of how much practice he was putting in.

Looking at his new collection of farm animals, he pocketed his wand once more.

"Whoever said magic can't fix everything was absolutely wrong."

**A/N**: I would like to thank whoever has been adding me to their alerts and favorites lists. Also, I accept bribes (in forms of reviews) to make me update faster. You know, without reviews, I never go onto fanfiction, say, to put up another chapter. It just builds up in my notebook, waiting for me to enter the fandom.

So, what do you want? Me to update. What do you have? Someone willing to update with review. What do you do? Review. Yay and all that jazz.


	6. Keep Your Mind On The Pasta

A/N: So as you may suspect, I have fun writing these chapters. Really, when I do find reviews and therefore inspiration to make me write more, my life improves- as do my grades, my health, and my general determination. Therefore, I leave you with this thought-- you are reading the story of the future "pigeon lady of the park".

Disclaimer: JK Rowling does not equal pigeon lady. Pigeon Lady wrote story. Therefore (miserable moaning whining) Pigeon Lady does not own Harry Potter. Damm.

Chapter 7 ** Keep Your Mind On The Pasta**

Ah, what a beautiful day. The sun was shining with not a cloud in the sky, the birds were twittering, the farm animals….

The farm animals?

_Harry, honey, it's time to wake up_, a sweet voice whispered. Snore, snore. _Harry_!

"What? What? Ha! Take that, Death Eaters!" Harry yelled sleepily, waving his wand. If the trees had been magical (which they weren't) they would have taken a step back from the boy sleeping in the hammock in the Dursleys backyard rather than face the wrath of a sleeping teenager.

He opened his eyes to see a cactus in front of him.

"Hold it, hold it." The world stopped. Or at least, it did in his mind. "Where'd the Death Eaters go? Where did that snake go? She's never not with me." He looked once again at the cactus.

"Where'd that cactus come from? I thought those were for desserts. Mm, food." A one track mind, he has.

Harry sat and thought for a moment, a very difficult task for a boy his age. Someone watching him during this time could have said the wheels were turning in his head constantly—if the wheels were rusty and had never been used. Finally, "Ah-hah!" after the cactus shot a few needles at him, a thought came.

"Girls are violent. The cactus is hurting me. Therefore, I am going to kill two birds with one stone and get rid of the cactus AND get my companion back.

He did some quick wand work, and her long thin body slapped back onto the grass.

_Harry, your reflexes are great, but you should be careful who you curse. You could make an easy enemy that way, you realize. I may not mind being a cactus (because it was only a few minutes) but someone else might. You might transfigure someone less caring than me. And since when were you so good at h-transfiguration? _

"I guess I must take after my dad. If you hadn't crept up on me…" he began to argue.

_I'm a snake. What do you expect me to do, get up on two feet and shake you gently awake? That would be worse for me, I can probably tell you now._

Harry yawned and looked at the sun. "Now that you've managed to wake me up out of my afternoon nap, could you be bothered to help me with my charms homework? I might be good at transfiguration, but you lived at with Ginny in a wizarding house and you probably know a lot more about the theory than me." He did not for a moment think it to be weird he was asking for help from a snake with magic. It was a snake, it was magic, therefore it could do anything. Done and done. At least in Harry's mind it was.

In Harry's room, the snake slithered up to the floor of the bed. Harry touched his fingertips to the floor, and she circled up his arm and around his neck, to be able to look over his shoulder. It was a weird feeling, but he didn't mind. How many other people could say they were best friends with their snake?

I am never going to live this up if Ginny hears about this. A snake helping me with my homework. I might as well sign up for that special school for people like Longbottom already, he thought.

_Harry, a mouse for your thoughts_. She noticed everything.

Thinking of the snake presenting him with a mouse, he shuddered.

"How about you keep the mouse and I'll tell you what's on my mind?" The snake bobbed her small head up and down.

"Well, I was just wondering about how you know about magic. I mean, obviously you do. And I assume Ginny taught you, because she's an amazing teacher. She's the only reason I scraped by in Potions class, and she's brilliant at everything. Did she teach you?" He could have sworn her scales turned red for a moment while he complimented Ginny. But maybe it was just the sunset.

"Sunset? Maybe that's why I feel so different. I'm hungry!" He gave her his arm, and walked down the stairs toward the kitchen.

_What strange feeling?_ _When did you start thinking about it?_ She asked of him.

"I was thinking about how Ginny would be laughing about me, and bouncing her fiery red curls, and her chocolate eyes, and my stomach did a little flippity thing, and then I was trying to figure out why when I realized that chocolate means food and I'm hungry. So here we are."

He set her down gently and took out a metal pot. He filled it with water from the tap and set it on the stove. He turned the dial and put in some twisty pasta.

"Mm… my favorite. Also the only food left in the house." He slapped his hand on his forehead, making an echoing sound. "Shoot. We've been here alone for a week and it's already all gone. How awful! We're going to have to go to the muggle supermarket and I don't even know where it is! And I want more food."

The snake just sat and watched as he paced the room, muttering to himself, becoming more and more out of tune with the world.

_Harry! The pasta!_


End file.
